No Time Like The Past
by katie janeway
Summary: ...when you want to kill your enemies. Voldemort has found a way to enter the past, causing Harry's world to change drastically in the present.
1. The YearTurner

**NO TIME LIKE THE PAST**

**_Rating:_**_ PG. I don't think there's anything in this that needs a higher rating._

**

* * *

****The Year-Turner**

**_Disclaimer_**_: If you know 'em, I don't own 'em. And that's probably a good thing. :)  
**A/N:** I'd really like to thank AMB3R, author of Hermione's Crush (great story, go read it) because I got this idea while reading it._

* * *

"Revenge," a low voice hissed. "I must have revenge."

"But how, Master?" Lucius Malfoy paced at the back of the chilly room. The fire had long since died out. He wished he could light it again; being alone in the dark with his master made him nervous. "Killing Harry Potter's Muggle guardians was futile. Now he will be at Hogwarts year-round."

"SILENCE!"

Lucius gulped, but continued. "You've tried to get at Potter from inside Hogwarts several times, and have always failed. Now it has even more defenses. How can you possibly kill the boy now?"

"I am aware of Hogwarts' defenses, Malfoy." Voldemort rose from his chair, and Lucius flinched as his master walked toward him. He should have silenced when ordered.

But there was no punishment. Voldemort moved past him to a low table against the wall. He stopped, and rested his hand on a thin box lying atop the table.

"If I cannot attack Potter now, Malfoy, I shall just have to do it in the past."

"How, Master? It's impossible!"

"No," said Voldemort slowly. "It isn't."

He lifted the lid of the box. From its velvet-lined interior, he withdrew a small hourglass on a glistening silver chain. Lucius Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes.

"Master, a Time Turner? You can't use that to kill Potter. Those things don't take you more than two days back!"

"This," Voldemort whispered, "_isn't_ a Time Turner, Malfoy." His red eyes glittered with excitement. "_This_ is a Year-Turner."

"A...Year-Turner, sir?"

"I invented it myself." There was a cold pride in his master's voice. Lucius shuddered.

"How do you know that it's successful?"

"Wormtail was kind enough to test it for me. After a few minor adjustments, it now works perfectly. Pity Wormtail was killed afterwards. But I couldn't have some of my servants hear about it and getting ideas. There are some who are becoming very ambitious lately."

Voldemort paused. "Including..._you_, Malfoy."

Lucius Malfoy was taken aback. He began to stammer as he tried desperately to find an answer that would save him.

"No, m-m-Master, I'm n-not...I'm f-f-faithful...I..." This wasn't working. Voldemort's eyes glared at him. " Who...whoever g-g-gave you th-that inform-m-mation was wr-wrong."

"LIAR!" Voldemort thundered. He then dropped his voice to a cool, silky whisper. "I have eyes and ears everywhere, Malfoy. A servant who plots against me is spotted easily."

He smiled gently at the cowering Lucius Malfoy before his face contorted into a mask rage.

Voldemort raised his wand. Within seconds, it was over. Malfoy hadn't even had time to open his mouth to scream.

"I should have done that years ago, _Mister_ Malfoy," he muttered to the corpse on the floor.

Voldemort turned, and shot sparks into the fireplace. By the light of a blazing fire, he gazed at the Year-Turner held in is other hand. It twirled innocently in the firelight, the silver chain shifting colors in the glow.

* * *

Harry Potter walked the silent halls of Hogwarts. He halted in front of a now-familiar gargoyle.

"Pepper Imps."

The gargoyle moved out of the way, and Harry moved up the stairway that'd been hidden behind it. He entered a room filled with portraits of Headmasters past.

An old man stood in the middle of the room, staring absently at an old hat atop a table. His face was lined deeply and his silvery eyebrows were furrowed over tired eyes.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Sit down, Harry." Harry walked to a chair next to the table, and sat. He had no idea why Professor Dumbledore had sent for him, but it couldn't be good.

"Lucius Malfoy is dead."

Harry was stunned. No Auror had ever been able to touch Malfoy before. Either someone had gotten lucky...or it wasn't an Auror who killed him.

"Um, sir? It was an Auror who killed him, wasn't it?"

"No, Harry. As far as we know, he was killed by another Death Eater or Voldemort himself."

Harry was silent for a moment, and then began thinking out loud.

"If the Death Eaters are killing each other, that might be a good thing. But if Voldemort killed him..."

"...Then he has a plan that doesn't require followers."

"Do you have any ideas, sir?"

"Unfortunately, no. This is a time we shall need to depend our spies for more information."

"I understand." Harry tried not to be alarmed, but if Voldemort was killing his followers, then he must have a truly terrible plan. "Is there anything else, Professor? I was in the middle of writing my essay on troll rampages and how they ruined the 1429 International Wizard Convention, for Professor Binns."

"No, Harry. You may go." Dumbledore's tone let Harry know the headmaster wasn't fooled by Harry's bravado.

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room. His essay still lay on one of the tables. He sat and began writing again, wishing Hermione was there to help. But school wouldn't start for another week.


	2. Night Attack

**_Disclaimer:_**_ If you know 'em and love 'em, I didn't create 'em._

**_A/N_**_: Did I mention this was Harry's fifth year?_

* * *

A shadow darker than night stole through the yard of a house near Ottery St. Catchpole. The house was crooked, held together by magic.

The cloaked Death Eater entered silently. He tiptoed up the stairs. According to Lord Voldemort, he was only to kill the boy who was a close friend of Potter's. The other family members didn't stand in the way at the moment. But he had to find the boy's room first.

Opening a door, the Death Eater was greeted by a low moan. Chains scraped across the floor as a ghoul approached him. The Death Eater had gone too far. This was the attic. He turned and crept back down the stairs.

At the bottom, there was a door he hadn't noticed earlier. Peering inside, an angry hooting startled him. There was a rustling of wings, then the Death Eater was being attacked by tiny talons and a sharp beak. He yelped.

"Who's there?"

Damn. The boy was awake. And the bird's incessant noise was beginning to waken the rest of the family. He turned to leave, warding off the tiny owl with an arm. It would be impossible to kill the boy now and still be able to DisApparate. Perhaps he could find a corner to stand in until all the family was in the boy's room. Then he could DisApparate.

Slipping through the doorway, the Death Eater bumped into an angry Arthur Weasley.

"I think you're in the wrong house." Cords sprang from Mr. Weasley's wand and the Death Eater was bound, unable to move.

* * *

The next morning found Harry in Dumbledore's office once again.

"Sir?"

"Harry, last night a Death Eater attempted to murder you friend, Mr. Ronald Weasley."

Harry sank weakly into a chair. "Is he alright?"

"Yes, fortunately. His owl saved him by making a most horrid racket and waking everyone."

Harry smiled; he couldn't help it. The thought of tiny Pig hooting his lungs out and attacking a Death Eater was amusing.

"Of course, the Weasleys can no longer stay in their own home. Therefore, the entire family will sat at Hogwarts until a more permanent hiding place is found."

"Sir, where will they stay? I mean, there's six of them!" Harry felt stupid for asking, but he had to know.

"Actually, Harry, all nine of the Weasleys will be staying here. Percy, Charlie, and Bill are now in danger as well. As for housing them, I do believe that four of the Weasley children still attend Hogwarts?" Harry nodded. "They will stay in their dormitories, of course. As for the rest of the family, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick are turning some of the empty classrooms into apartments for them."

"Um...Professor? If Voldemort has already tried to kill Ron, won't he send a Death Eater after Hermione? Shouldn't she and her parents come here, too?"

"Yes, Harry. Miss Granger will be arriving later today, with the Weasley family. Her parents will be hidden in Diagon Alley."

"Why can't they come here?"

"Some areas of the wizarding world are more available to Muggles than others, Harry. To bring the Grangers to Hogwarts would be extremely difficult. However, hiding them in Diagon Alley until a more suitable place is found will be relatively easy."

"When will everyone get here?" The sooner Ron and Hermione were at Hogwarts, the better Harry would feel.

"They shall arrive this afternoon, I believe. I suggest you inform the house-elves." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I would go myself, but they seem to become nervous when I speak to them. Perhaps it has something to do with Dobby. I do not believe they approve of him receiving pay."

Harry grinned. "I think that's an understatement, Professor."

Harry left Dumbledore's office and walked through the corridors until he reached the kitchen entrance: A painting of a bowl of fruit. He tickled the pear and stepped through when the painting swung aside.

"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby the house-elf ran up to him and hugged him. Poor Harry was almost bowled over from the force of it.

"_Oof_! H'lo, Dobby." Harry wheezed.

"What brings Harry Potter to the kitchens, sir?"

"Professor Dumbledore wants you to get the other Gryffindor dormitories ready, as soon as possible, for some students who are coming to Hogwarts early. And some of you will also need to help Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick turn classrooms into apartments for my friend Ron's family, if you can."

"Oh, we will, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby paused a moment, as other house-elves left the kitchens. "Did sir just say his Wheezy would be coming to Hogwarts early, sir?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because, sir, Dobby wants to thank him for his new clothes, that he sent to Dobby over the summer, sir."

Harry now noticed that Dobby was wearing the sock Harry had given him, and children's shorts, but also a shirt that looked familiar.

"I'll tell him, Dobby. How's Winky?"

Dobby's face fell. "Winky is gone, sir. She left shortly after the end of school last year, sir, and is working for free with a new family last Dobby hears, sir."

The remaining house-elves apparently thought Dobby had conversed with Harry long enough. They crowded around him and began to gently push him to the door. "I'll see you later, Dobby!" Harry called right before he was standing in the corridor again.

He stared at the closed portrait. '_Winky and freedom are still taboo. Wonder what Hermione'll think of that?'_ Harry mused. He stood for a moment, then set off for the Entrance Hall to see if the Weasleys and Hermione had arrived.

* * *

**_A/N:_**_ Well, that's Ch 2. Ch 3 may be a while, because I've been ignoring Dark Times while doing this. So I'll post Ch 3 once Ch 10 of that is up._


	3. All Together

**_Disclaimer_**_: They aren't mine and never will be.  
**A/N:** Ch 3 is finally here! Yay! A word of advice: Don't ever avoid homework. It piles until you have no free time._

* * *

Harry didn't have to wait for long. He had only been there about 10 minutes, when the doors burst open.

"Harry!" He suddenly found himself squashed against Mrs. Weasley in a tight bear hug.

"Ehwoh, Mishis Easwy," Harry managed to mumble. Mrs. Weasley released him from the hug and looked him over. She gave a nod of approval, so she must've decided the professors were taking good care of him.

The others came over, and everyone exchanged greetings. Then the kids went upstairs to Gryffindor tower.

After settling in, Fred, George, and Ginny went downstairs, leaving Ron and Harry in the common room. Hermione was still upstairs.

"Have you written to Sirius, Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "After the Dursleys were killed, and after I knew you and Hermione would be coming. But I try not to contact him too much. Now that he's staying with Lupin, there's a bigger risk of getting caught."

"Speaking of Hermione, why hasn't she finished unpacking?"

"I dunno..."

Ron grinned. "Maybe she can't find places for all of her books."

"Well, once she gets down here, maybe she can help me with my History of Magic essay."

"Not if she's helping me with mine."

"Or I could just not help either of you." Hermione had just entered the common room.

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione cut him off. "We'll discuss it later. If we don't hurry, we'll be late for dinner."

* * *

They left the common room and headed toward the Great Hall, still bantering about the essays. Harry was relieved that Ron didn't seem upset with Harry over last night's events. He'd known Hermione wouldn't blame him, but Ron had a quick temper.

But Ron _was_ a little upset. He just didn't let Harry see it. Why make him feel worse? Ron finally understood that being Harry Potter was a sometimes a burden. He didn't even blame Harry for the attack. Danger was part of the territory when it came to being Harry's best friend.

* * *

Just before they entered the Great Hall, Hermione turned to Harry.

"I forgot to ask, but-"

"Hermione forget something? The world really is coming to an end."

Hermione glared at Ron, then continued. "Have you contacted Sirius lately?"

Harry grinned. "Ron asked me that earlier. I do, but not very often."

* * *

Later that night, Harry and Ron played wizard's chess while Hermione watched. Ron groaned when he lost. Harry grinned at his friend's shock.

"I've been playing against Dumbledore since I came back," he explained.

"What else have you been doing, Harry?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Well, I used the Marauder's Map to get around Hogwarts..."

The three of them talked well into the night, just catching up.

* * *

"Damn." Voldemort turned away from Robert Goyle, his eyes glittering angrily. One of his best Death Eaters had been caught. And the man's mission had failed. This was not good. He had to eliminate Harry Potter's friends, and that old fool, Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore and the Mudblood girl especially, or they would be able to help Harry before his plan would be entirely complete. If they learned his plan, Harry would know what to do to protect himself. All would be lost, for mistakes could not be made.

Then he smiled in the darkness. "Of course," he whispered. He didn't have to eliminate them now. Potter's friends would meet the same fate as the boy himself.


	4. Turn To The Past

**_Disclaimer:_**_ There's got to be a good reason for why they don't belong to me._  
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"His friends must die."  
  


"Sir, do you mean the Mudblood and the son of the Muggle-lover that Potter is friends with?"  
  


"Yes. But especially the girl. When was she born?"  
  
"Um...Master, how will that help?"  
  
"WHEN WAS SHE BORN?!"  
  
"Uh..." The flustered Death Eater gazed around, as if the birth date of Hermione Granger might be flashing in neon on the wall.  
  
Voldemort crossed the room and grabbed his shaking servant by his robe.  
  
"If you do not know," he hissed. "Then _go find out_. And get the birth date of the boy, too."  
  
The servant scurried out of the room, with Voldemort staring after him.  
  
"That's another I shall have to kill." he remarked to the empty room. He turned and gazing into the fire, his thoughts focusing on a certain fifteen-year-old girl.  
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Miles away, Hermione was laughing as Ron returned to normal. He glared at his brothers.  
  
"I ought to hex them for that."  
  
"I dunno, Ron," Harry choked out. "I think you make a very nice rabbit."  
  
"Yes," Ginny giggled. "Pink is definitely your color."  
  
Ron was still fuming.  
  
"Oh, cheer up, Ron," Hermione said. "At least they did this before everyone arrives tomorrow. Besides, now you know to avoid their Watermelon Hops."

  
This only made Ron angrier and the others couldn't quit laughing. Finally, he joined in, rather half-heartedly.  
  
'_After all,_' he thought '_I could've been turned into a spider_'  
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"I have the information, Master."  
  
"When?"  
  
He was handed a copy of a birth certificate and a photo.  
  
"Hermione Elizabeth Granger was born September 8, 1986."   
  
"And the boy?"  
  
"Oh, damn. I forgot." The Death Eater received his master's full glare. "I'll, uh...go find out, right now."  
  
Voldemort wasn't paying attention as the servant fled the room. His gaze was fixed on the recent wizard photo of Hermione that his servant had given him.  
  
"In a matter of days, my little Mudblood," he whispered to the girl that was pushing her hair back as she read a book. "I will go back in time and make sure you never exist. You cannot stand in the way."   
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The flickering firelight attempted to illuminate the dark room a few nights later. shadows flickered across Voldemort's face, his red eyes glowing. The Year-Turner glittered as he slipped it over his head.  
  
"Time to go to work." he whispered. He began to turn the tiny hourglass. Over and over. Sixteen times. "I'll see you soon, Potter." he murmured. The next second, the room was empty. The fire died.  
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**September 1985**  
  
Voldemort grinned. He had loved this year. One of his Death Eaters had become the Assistant Minister of Magic.   
  
"Must not think about the past," he muttered. "Or, I should say, the present. I have work to do."  
  
He withdrew another, smaller hourglass from within his robes. It was barely larger than his thumb. A Month-Turner. Another clever invention of his, that not even Wormtail had known about. He'd personally tested it.   
  
Voldemort's eyes gleamed as he turned the Month-Turner forward. He vanished a moment later.  
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**_A/N_**_: Finally! The Past! But we still have the present to deal with as well; don't forget._


	5. Interesting News

**_Disclaimer:_**_ They were not, are not, and never will be mine._  
**_A/N_**_: Didn't mean to confuse you, **ittybittytreefrog**. Nope, it's not a sequel, although I might write a prequel to it later. The Dursleys died over the summer, before Harry's birthday. I just haven't clarified much about it, since I think I might do that in a later chapter._  
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**June 2, 1986**  
Voldemort Apparated in front of the Weasley residence. His fingers itched to hold his wand, but he resisted. Today was not the day. He would attack this family soon, but he needed to observe them first. He melted into the shadows, his eyes never straying from the lighted windows. A woman's furious voice split the night.

  
"Bill! How many times must I tell you? Never leave your toy broomstick on the floor! One of your little brothers might trip on it, if I don't!"  
  
"Awwww, Mom! I was gonna pick it up sooner or later."  
  
"Well, it's sooner. Pick it up!"  
  
Voldemort smiled in the twilight. In a few days' time, this family would have more to worry about than tripping on a toy broomstick. Much more.  
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**Present Day**  
  
The first few weeks of school were over. Harry was glad to have settled into a normal routine. But something didn't feel right. His scar ached nonstop, and yet nothing had been heard from Voldemort or his Death Eaters.  
  
"Hey, look!" Harry and Hermione stopped their game of wizard's chess.   
  
"Ron, what-" Hermione started to say, but Harry leapt up.  
  
"Hedwig's back!" Harry had sent the owl to Sirius, hoping that his godfather would know why his scar hurt. Ron and Hermione crowded around as he unrolled Sirius' note.  
  


_Harry,  
I may have a reason for why your scar has been hurting. Another Death Eater was found dead in Bristol last night. It looks like he was killed about a week ago. Not a pretty sight. Voldemort must be planning something big. I want you, Ron, and Hermione to be very careful.  
Sirius_

  
"Another's dead?!" Hermione exclaimed over Harry's shoulder. "But, why is he killing them?"  
  
"And why is he telling us to be careful? We're always careful."  
  
"Right. Just like you and Harry were careful when you fought the troll in our first year."  
  
"We were saving you!"  
  
"Well, I probably wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't locked it in with me! And what about the times you've gone into the Forbidden Forest?"  
  
"Hey! Well, what about when you..."  
  
Harry left his friends bickering in the common room. He needed to give this new information to Dumbledore.  
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Hours later, he returned to discover Ron and Hermione waiting anxiously in the common room.  
  
"What did he say, Harry?"  
  
"Something else must be wrong, for you to be there for hours."  
  
"Sirius wasn't the only one with news. Professor Dumbledore received a message from Snape. None of the Death Eaters have heard from Voldemort since the first week of school. And Moody's disappeared."  
  
"Disappeared?!"  
  
"Yeah. And Dumbledore's really worried. Because no one seemed to miss Moody. So he checked the Ministry's file on Moody. The last document in the file is dated from 1986."  
  
"What about all the times my Dad got him out of trouble?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"What is the last document?"  
  
"A death certificate."  
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**A/N:** Voldemort's been busy...I'm sorry this took so long to post. I kinda forgot, since I was posting Dark Times, and then ff.n had problems...


	6. Ron

**Disclaimer**: I wish they were mine, so I wouldn't need a disclaimer.  
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**June 8, 1986**  
  
Voldemort smiled evilly to himself over his latest accomplishment. Two days ago, Alastor Moody had been a living, breathing Auror. Now, he was a cold, silent corpse in a darkened alley. Voldemort swept away, his Mark floating in the air above.  
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**Present Day**  
  
"A death certificate? But..."

  
Harry nodded. "I know. It shouldn't be possible. But it is. Which means that the situation is more dangerous that we thought."  
  
"Then what do we do?"  
  
Harry gazed at his friends solemnly. "There's almost nothing we can do, until Dumbledore finds an explanation."  
  
"Well, it's obvious isn't it?" The trio turned to see a smirking Draco Malfoy behind them. He had been unusually quiet since his father's death. Now, it appeared, his one-time arrogance had returned. "I'm surprised the Mudblood-" Hermione's eyes flashed. "-hasn't figured it out yet. But I guess you're all too stupid."  
  
Ron reached in his robes for his wand as the Slytherin stalked away. Harry grabbed his arm. "Even if he does know something, there's no good in fighting him, Ron. That's what he wants."  
  
He opened his mouth to say more, when Ron seemed to flicker before his eyes. The next minute, he was gone.  
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**June 14, 1986**  
  
"Invisiblus." Voldemort whispered. He vanished from sight as doctors and nurses of Mundago's Wizarding Hospital rushed to the room with the Dark Mark floating in the hall. He smiled gleefully as a panicked Arthur Weasley rushed into the room, followed by the young twins. He wanted to stay and watch the fun, but he had more work to do. He DisApparated.  
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Arthur Weasley rushed into the room. He stopped at the scene before him, and sank slowly to his knees. Molly Weasley lay on the bed, her once brilliant blue eyes now dulled forever. In her arms was their newborn son. The one they were going to name Ronald. The other three boys, who had come to see their new brother, were also dead.  
  
"Daddy?" Arthur turned, and saw the twins. Thank God he still had them. "What happened to them?"  
  
"They're gone, boys." he whispered sadly. "And they aren't coming back."   
Arthur gathered the twins close to him, and they stayed that way for several minutes.   
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**Present Day**  
  
Harry and Hermione stared at the place where Ron had stood a moment earlier.  
  
"Harry...what happened?" Hermione questioned shakily.  
  
"Ron's gone." Harry whispered. He gulped back the limp in his throat. "I think...I think what happened to Moody...I think it just happened to Ron." He spotted Fred and George walking their way.  
  
"What do we tell them?"  
  
"What happened, as best as we can explain it." Harry walked over to the twins. "Um, Fred? George? I have bad news."  
  
"What is it, Harry?"   
  
"Ron...just vanished before our eyes. I think..." Harry never got to finish. He was too stunned by the twin's reaction.   
  
Instead of laughing at the idea of Ron vanishing into thin air, or becoming subdued, the twins' faces had clouded over with anger.  
  


"Do you think you're being funny, Harry?" George hissed.  
  
"What do you mean? I'm being serious. Ron, your brother, just vanished. Don't you care?"  
  
Fred glared at Harry. "Our brother, Ron, as well as everyone else we loved except for Dad, was killed the day he was born."  
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**A/N:** I wasn't even expecting that. Wow. I wonder what Voldemort will do next. Guess we'll just have to wait and see what comes into my head.


	7. Most Likely Explanation

**Disclaimer:** I'm only borrowing them. I swear I'll give them back.  
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Harry stared as Fred and George stalked away. He turned to Hermione, who looked just as shocked as he was.  
  
"I guess we know what happened to him." Harry said. He had trouble squeezing the words past the lump in his throat.  
  
"And to Moody."   
  
"We'd better tell Dumbledore."  
  
The two slowly walked the halls of Hogwarts. When they reached the gargoyle, Harry mumbled the correct password, so they could trudge up the stairs to Dumbledore's office.  
  
"Ah, Ms. Granger, Harry. I must say, I-" Dumbledore stopped. He gazed at them, taking in the tears threatening to abandon Hermione's eyes, and Harry's pale, solemn face. "What's happened?" he asked softly.  
  
"Ron's gone. Dead."  
  
"Just now?"  
  
"No. Fifteen years ago. He died the day he was born."  
  
"I'm afraid I am rather confused."  
  
"It's simple, Professor." Dumbledore turned his eyes to Hermione. "Someone went back and killed Ron in the past, rather than doing it now. And," she blinked back tears. "They killed the rest of the family too, except Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George."  
  
Dumbledore sank into a chair. "Then I believe," he stated heavily, "that I know who killed him."  
  
"Voldemort." Harry said softly. It wasn't a question.  
  
"Yes. Now we know why he has killed those Death Eaters. They knew what he was planning."   
  
Hermione listened in silence. She was busy putting the pieces together. Voldemort had found a way into the past, presumably by inventing something. Wormtail had probably tested it. He would've been eliminated once the object worked perfectly. Lucius Malfoy had either known too much, or been an unrelated danger to Voldemort, maybe after his power. The other one...Well, Voldemort would need someone to research dates for him. How else would he have gotten Ron's birth date? And if he'd gotten Ron's, then...Hermione felt a pang of dread.   
  
"When were you born, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore asked abruptly. He had apparently arrived at the same conclusion she had reached seconds ago.   
  
"September 8, 1986." she replied faintly.  
  
Harry was puzzled. How did her birth date fit in with Ron's death? Then the words he had repeated to Dumbledore came back to him. "...He was killed the day he was born." Voldemort was after his friends. Hermione was next.  
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**July 31, 1986**  
  
A happy young couple were together in the room. Her red hair tumbled over her face as she gazed at her new son. The father of the child was bending over the two, beaming.   
  
"How sweet," Voldemort whispered. "Like a scene in a storybook. Well, don't worry Potters, your time will come."  
  
It would be so simple to kill the family now, and be done with it. But he wanted credit for the crime, and at this time, the Potters had been unimportant. Wormtail had not joined him yet, either. Useless as the man most often was, he was a servant that never questioned orders, was loyal, and too afraid to usurp power. The perfect follower.  
  
He pulled his thoughts to the task at hand. Destroying the Mudblood girl would be harder. No doubt that old fool in charge of Hogwarts had discovered his plan. Although, Voldemort mused, he didn't really need to worry. It had taken him months to perfect the Turners. Dumbledore would have only days. The few days Voldemort would need to observe the Granger family, and determine if the girl's parents were also threats.  
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**Present Day**  
  
"The question is," Hermione said slowly, "What did You-Know-Who use to get into the past?"  
  


"It is my belief that Voldemort took an existing time-travel device, and altered it to his own devices."  
  


"Then which one would he have used?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione began to list them, using her fingers. "Well." she said, pulling her fingers back, "there's the Time-Turner, the Hop-back, the Backwards Gazer..." She stopped. "Although that's more like a Pensieve, really. As for spells, there's Whizbactim and Altimefora. But neither of those lets you go back more than a few minutes."  
  
"The Hop-back is likely too large for Voldemort's purposes. And he would dislike altering spells. Too much risk in mispronunciation and the like."  
  
"So...he must be using an altered Time-Turner."  
  
"That appears to be the most likely explanation."  
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**A/N:** Finally! This chapter has been completed! Writer's block is gone! (I hope)


	8. Switch

**Disclaimer:** No suing. #1, I'm broke, and #2, I'm admitting I don't own 'em.  
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"So now we know how he got into the past." Harry stated. "Let's alter another Time-Turner and go after him."  
  
"Time-Turners take months to alter, Harry. How can we alter one in only a few days?"  
  
"Well...couldn't we just use a regular one, and keep going back until we make the right changes?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, Harry. The law states that in each given time, your presence is not to be more than doubled."  
  
Harry translated that into normal English. "So, there can only be two of me in each time: my original self, and the me that's traveling in the past."  
  
"Exactly."  
  


Harry sighed. "Then we're in trouble."  
  
"Not necessarily." Harry and Hermione looked at Dumbledore in astonishment.  
  
"But, Professor-"  
  
"There is a way that even you do not know about, Ms. Granger. Not many do."  
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**September 8, 1986**  
  
Voldemort Apparated inside the Granger's home. There would be no danger of being seen. That Mudblood brat was being born today.  
  
He prowled around, gazing at photographs, the bookshelves, and finally entered the nursery. The walls were papered with a print of teddy bears with ABC books. A mobile hung over what would soon be Hermione's bed, with the stars and planets. A plush tooth lay waiting for the baby to snuggle with when she got home.  
  
"How...adorable." he sneered. "Well, they won't need this anymore."  
  
But he didn't destroy it yet. He twirled his wand between his fingers, thinking. How could such a seemingly ordinary pair of Muggles create a witch that was too brilliant for her own good? Hermione Granger, if not stopped, would soon be as brilliant as he. Perhaps more so. Someone who could understand his schemes, and foil them.  
  
He lifted his wand, and then lowered it. Why not turn the girl? Wouldn't that be just the cruelest irony? A Mudblood, killing her own kind. A friend of Potter, gloating over his death. For nothing would go wrong this time. Nothing.  
  
Voldemort cursed. What was he thinking? The girl was a Mudblood! One who would be greater than he. She should be destroyed! 

  
The sound of a key turning in the lock startled him. He DisApparated.  
  
ReApparating in the hospital, he searched until he found the right room. Mrs. Granger was asleep. He smiled. What a rude awakening she would have in just a moment. He moved down the corridor.  
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Mrs. Granger was rudely awakened by the sounds of footsteps rushing past her door.   
  
"What's going on?" she called to a nurse.  
  
"Nothing, ma'am, it's nothing." the woman called back. But Mrs. Granger could see it was definitely something, for a guard rushed past next.  
  
"Please," she begged him. "What's going on?"   
  
He glanced at her nameplate. "Mrs. Granger, it's your daughter. I can't say anything more." He ran off.  
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**Present Day**  
  
"What is it, Professor?"  
  
"Old magic. A spell from before Hogwarts was founded."  
  
"What is it?" Hermione asked eagerly. "If it can help Harry, then-" her expression changed. She looked confused for a moment. "Then-" she tried again, faltering. Then the look of confusion was gone. Her eyes hardened, and her expression grew sullen.  
  
"What have I done now, Professor?" Hermione glanced around. Spying Harry, she sneered. "Oh, did I hurt Potter's feelings?"   
  
Harry was stunned. What was Hermione saying? It didn't make sense. Then he noticed her badge and tie.  
  
Slytherin's green and silver.  
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**A/N:** Yes, I know it's shorter than usual, but I figured it was a good spot to quit.


	9. Fathers

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em. That is true. But I like. Writing fics for you  
**A/N:** Hi, everyone! Here's Ch 9! I can't give any good guestimates on when Ch 10 will be up, becuz I'm having computer problems. But I'll try to have it soon.  
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For a moment, there was complete silence. Then Dumbledore cleared his throat.  
  
"Miss Granger, I-"  
  
"My name is not Granger!" Hermione snapped. "It's Riddle! Hermione Riddle!"  
  
"I apologize."  
  
"You should, you old fool," Harry heard her mutter under her breath.  
  
"As I was saying, Miss Riddle, you have not offended Mr. Potter in any way. I merely wished to request that you consider something. I am going to ask Professor McGonagall to instruct a new, elective course on Animagi. I thought it might be of interest to you."  
  
"Fine. Can I go now?"  
  
"Yes, you may."  
  
Hermione turned to Harry and smirked at him, before flouncing out of the office. Harry stared after her for a moment.  
  
"Professor...what do we do now?"  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------  
Hermione Riddle stalked the hallways of Hogwarts, heading for the Slytherin common room. She couldn't believe that old fool. Asking her to join some Animagi class taught by that stupid McGonagall. Like she would want to.  
  
Actually, she admitted, she would. Not because of the teacher, but because it might be interesting. And it might help to be an Animagi once she became a Death Eater.  
  
She decided to write her father. He wouldn't get the letter until the class had started, with her luck, but there was no other way to communicate with him. She scowled. Of couse he would pick the school farthest from his location. Only he would do it to avoid her and call it "spying on Dumbledore." Wormtail had been more of a father than Lord Voldemort, aka her father, Tom Riddle. She would write to Wormtail instead, but she knew he'd be too scared to read it and the letter would reach her father anyway. So she might as well write directly. A voice broke into her thoughts.  
  
"Hi, Herm." She turned, scowling. She loathed that nickname.  
  
"Oh. Hello, Crabbe."  
  
"Uh, Malfoy's looking for ya."  
  
That git. He probably wanted to ask her out again, despite the fact she'd turned him down twice. He was handsome, but such an arrogant little prick that she couldn't stand him. And she didn't trust him.  
  
"Well," she said, "tell him I'll be in the common room as always, but the answer is 'no'."  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------  
"We will have to begin preparations tonight. The sooner we send you back to fix this, the better. Now, I will have to speak to the staff, and determine if anything else has changed, before we can continue..."  
  
Harry, however, wasn't fully listening. When Dumbledore had delayed answering his question, probably because of shock, Harry had begun to ponder what had just happened. A horrible thought struck him.  
  
"Sir...did Hermione say her last name was Riddle?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "I am afraid so."  
  
Harry felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. 'Then...then she's..."  
  
"Voldemort's daughter."  
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**September 20, 1986**  
  
A loud cry split the night. The baby had woken in her crib.  
  
"Wormtail! Will you shut that brat up?!"  
  
"S-sir, she's, uh, your daughter."  
  
"Yes, and she's disrupting my sleep. Now go feed her or whatever needs to be done."  
  
"Yes, master." Wormtail sighed. He walked over and lifted the small baby from her crib.  
  
"Shhh. Hush. It's all right," he crooned. "Let's go see what's the matter."  
  
It turned out to be a dirty diaper and hunger. He rocked the child gently, smiling as she sucked at the bottle. Such a beautiful little girl. It was hard to believe her father was the Dark Lord.  
  
"Bed is too small for my poor, tired head," he sang softly as Hermione finished drinking. Still singing softly, he burped her and returned her to the crib. He gazed at her another moment before leaving for his own bed.  
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**October 31, 1986**  
  
"Happy Halloween!" James Potter wandered around, greeting guests.  
  
"Lupin, good to see you! Ah, Dumbledore, I've been wanting to talk to you...Sirius! Have you seen Harry? Your godson's growing bigger every day."  
  
Lily Potter sat in the bedroom, nursing Harry. She smiled as she smoothed silky strands of dark hair away from his forehead. He was already such a handsome baby.  
  
"H'lo, Lily." She glanced up.  
  
"Oh, Peter! I didn't even hear you come in."  
  
"Sorry. How's Harry?"  
  
"Oh, he's fine. He-are you alright?" she asked suddenly. "You look like you haven't been sleeping well. In fact, you look like I do after a night of staying up with Harry. You aren't babysitting for anyone are you?"  
  
"Er, no. Well, I'd better say 'hi' to James." Peter said quickly, and left.  
  
Lily frowned. Peter was acting very odd lately...


	10. Preparations

**_Disclaimer: __Yes, THEY ARE MINE! Bwahaha! All mine! *Grins crazily* Yes!_**

_(Just kidding)_

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**Present**

Harry and Dumbledore stood in a dungeon room that had once hosted Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party. A musty spellbook stood before them.

"Uh, sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are you sure I can't just use a Time Turner to relive the days while I create something to turn back years? After all, Hermione used it to be in three places at once. If she can disobey the law, why can't I?" Harry knew he sounded whiny, but he was nervous. The two people he cared about most were in trouble. Ron had to be saved from murder, and Hermione...

Harry's fists clenched. They'd run into Miss Riddle on their way down. He couldn't call her Hermione. She wasn't the girl who was his best friend. Hermione wouldn't stick a foot out to trip him as he passed, or whisper "Potty, what's the matter? Clumsy?" when he tried to get up.

"The law was passed after your third year, Harry. Now, I understand you are nervous. A lot rides on your shoulders. But I have faith that you can do it."

"Sir!" They heard footsteps running toward them. "Headmaster!"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sir, Professor McGonagall just vanished, and Professor Trelawney just tried to murder a student!"

"Wait here, Harry!" Dumbledore called over his shoulder as he hurried off. "I'll deal with this and return!"

Harry sat, wrapping his robes about him. Things were getting worse. He _had_ to fix this. Soon.

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April 17, 1987 

Wormtail whistled as he entered Merzim's Magical Baby Apparel and Accessories. Hermione was turning into a beautiful baby. If only her father would actually take care of her...

He focused on other matters. Lord Voldemort had recruited more followers lately, including a Hogwarts teacher. Sybil Trelawney may not be a good seer, but she made an excellent spy. Now Voldemort had two at Hogwarts, and could stay well informed of Dumbledore's activities.

As for his own activities, Wormtail was eagerly reporting information he learned from the Potters, enabling Death Eaters to find some who had gone into hiding. The number of Mudblood wizards was going down each month, as Death Eaters performed their duties.

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**Present Day**

Dumbledore hurried beside Professor Vector as they headed for Snape's office.

"How did this happen, Sinyra?" he panted. (**_A/N:_**_ Was a Vector a guy or girl? I really don't remember, and I can't find it in the books, though I thought it said._)

"I think Professor Trelawney has decided to work for the Dark Lord. As for Professor McGonagall.... I don't know. Fortunately, she vanished while conversing with me over house points, and not in front of the students."

"I see. It has happened again."

"Sir?"

"Oh. Never mind, Sinyra. Just know that I've already begun work on the problem of Professor McGonagall's disappearance. A similar event recently occurred."

They reached Vector's office. From within, they could hear loud sobs. Dumbledore entered, Vector following behind him. Then Dumbledore turned.

"I'm sorry, Sinyra, but I must ask you to step outside." The Arithmancy mistress didn't appear happy, but she left the room. Dumbledore turned to face Trelawney, who stopped her fake sobs immediately.

"Now, Sybil, perhaps you can explain to me what this is all about."

Professor Trelawney laughed. "Old fool, don't you _know_? I simply got tired of having to teach the Mudbloods."

"May I ask when you entered Voldemort's service?"

"April of '87, although I don't see how that can help you. Don't you want to call Fudge and have him take me away?"

"Yes, I believe I will. I have no further questions." Dumbledore sighed as he exited the room. Voldemort's dealings in the past were becoming quite extensive. He didn't know why Harry hadn't been killed yet, but the boy had a heavy burden on his shoulders. There was no one else who could possibly face Voldemort. Dumbledore would, but he knew he was growing too old; he could feel it.

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Draco Malfoy was worried. And angered. His father had disappeared--that was the cause of his worry. The cause of his anger was slightly more intricate: It took the form of the sharp-tongued Hermione Riddle.

She was smart, more intelligent that anyone else in the school. She was pretty, though not stunningly so. It was just the way her hair caught the light, and her smile...Smiles came to Hermione Riddle rarely, something Draco wished wasn't so. He knew her father, the Dark Lord, ignored her and that was another reason for his anger. She was so fascinating, so powerful...How could anyone ignore her?

But her father did. Draco decided this was the reason she turned him down so often. She didn't trust men; that had to be it. After all, he was everything a girl could want. And he would prove it to her.

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Harry was very nervous by the time Dumbledore returned. He tried not to let it enter his voice as he asked, "Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded. "He's changing the timeline even more."

"Then why do we remember?"

"Our own timelines haven't been tampered with, Harry. But I have a feeling they soon will be. And we will have to delay our spell another night, for we will surely be interrupted again if we continue."

He walked over to a wall, tapped it twice, and a cubbyhole opened. "We will store the book here."

Harry shook his head as he followed Dumbledore out of the dungeons. It was all too confusing at the moment. He hoped that he'd figure it out before he had to fix things. Otherwise, he might just make it worse.

=============================================================    

**_A/N_**_: Finally! I got my computer to cooperate enough for another chapter! Yay!_


	11. Failure

**Disclaimer:** If only they were mine. *author sighs dramatically* And yes, I got the idea of a spell anchor from the Young Wizards series by Diane Duane.

========================== =====================================

The next morning found Harry and Dumbledore in the dungeons again, attempting to read the spellbook by the lights of their wands. What they were doing was not meant to be known to all of Hogwarts, so they didn't light the candles.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore said as he opened the book. "This is old magic-we can't use a simple spell."

"What do I do?"

"The spell needs a safety circle, to make sure that you stay anchored to this timeline. It can be as large as you want, as long as you are sure to use a Shield Charm to anchor it. "

"What do I draw it with?"

"Powdered dragon heart."

"Anything else?"

"Blood."

"What?!"

"It…binds the spell to you; ties it to make sure you arrive when and where you wish to go. And…you cannot use your wand. It can remain with you, but this is a wandless spell." Harry nodded, and silently pricked his finger, to add the blood.****

When the circle was complete, Harry set the spellbook on the stand. He'd done a protection circle around it, just in case. 

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore cautioned. "Before you begin, I must remind you that you will only remain in the past for twelve hours before you are pulled back. You must be sure of what you're doing."

"I understand." Harry took a deep breath. "Paseo Reuno a mey jhuno," he recited, with difficulty. The words felt odd, and he wasn't used to reciting longer spells. " Reuno du 1986, Actim." He concentrated hard on his destination, and vanished.

-------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------

**June 14, 1986**

Harry arrived at the Burrow almost immediately after leaving Hogwarts. The sight of the home made him smile. His mood lifted considerably as he saw Mrs. Weasley, obviously pregnant, come out the door to feed the chickens. He ducked out of sight.

He was in the right year then. Fred and George had said everyone but they and their dad had been murdered when Ron was born, so Mrs. Weasley couldn't possibly be pregnant with Ginny. Now all he had to do was figure out what day it was, so he'd know how longer he had. He headed toward the village.

Ottery St. Catchpole wasn't very large, and Harry received several stares as he headed for the local news office. He double-checked his wardrobe – yes, he was in Muggle clothes. The town must not receive many visitors. Harry was used to stares, so it didn't bother him too much.

He bought a copy of the local paper and glanced at it. June 14. Good. He was on the right day. But why had the Weasley's still been home? Shouldn't they have been at the hospital? He ran back to the Burrow, in time to hear frantic yelling. Moving closer, he glanced in the window. Apparently, it was time to go, and they were hunting for the Floo powder. Harry wasn't sure it was the wisest way to travel, especially for a woman obviously beginning labor, but it was the Weasley's decision.

He knew where they were going. Ron had told him before that he was born at Mundago's Wizarding Hospital. But how would he get there? He didn't have Floo Powder, and he didn't know how to Apparate. A broomstick wouldn't be good to use either. 

-------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------

Three hours later, Harry wearily climbed out of the Knight Bus. He'd thought of it as a last resort, unsure that it would be running during the day. But it had been.

"Ministry of Magic or Mundago's Hospital?" the driver has asked. 

"Er…" was all Harry could say.

"What, no one was attacked? Isn't that why you called for the Knight Bus in daytime?"

"My friend…" Harry said slowly. The driver nodded sympathetically. 

"Shock, I understand. But I can't help until I know where you want to go. Mundago's or Ministry?"

"Mundago's."

"Right, then. We'll be there in about three hours." Now Harry was standing in front of one the largest wizarding hospitals of the world. He only hoped he was on time.

One look at the grim faces of the mediwizards proved him wrong. Everyone was running around frantically, and several people from the Ministry were bustling around. 

"Wish old Moody were here-"

"Have you spoken to the remaining family?"

"Poor Arthur…"

Harry sat down weakly. He was too late. And he couldn't visit this time again; Dumbledore had strongly cautioned against it. 

"Nadix," he whispered. That simple word would abort his trip and send him back to his own timeline.

-------------------------- ------------------------------------------------- -----------------------

"Harry?" the boy didn't answer, and Dumbledore knew that he had failed. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "There'll be another chance, Harry."

"I know. Hermione's birthday."

"Perhaps."

"What do you mean, perhaps? I couldn't stop Ron's death, but maybe I can stop Voldemort from changing her."

"Harry, I understand. However, there are two more important days."

"What are they?"

"Halloween…and this past summer; I'm not sure what day."

"Why?"

"Voldemort is sure to have merged with his younger self, thereby making himself stronger. He hopes that he will then be able to kill you when he murders your parents. And he altered the Time-Turner this past summer."

Harry nodded. Dumbledore was right. But he didn't like the thought of Hermione living with Voldemort for a year.

"She'll be fine, Harry. As long as we succeed, none of this will happen."

--------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------ -----------

**October 31, 1987**

Voldemort smiled to himself. He was stronger tonight than he had been the first time. He had blended with his past self shortly after murdering the Weasleys. Common sense dictated it, before something happened. Now he was twice as powerful, and prepared to succeed. The Potters would die tonight. All of them.


	12. Dumbledore

**A/N:** Obviously, I am not setting these dates to canon. If I did, then Harry would've been born in 1980; so all the dates would be moved back seven years. I'm too lazy to go back and change them.  Just wanted to clear that up, since a friend of mine, who frequently betas for me asked about it.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned 'em, do you think I'd be writing on FFN?

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**Present Day**

Hermione Riddle stalked the halls of Hogwarts angrily. As usual, her father had ignored her attempt at contact; she was on her own. So she would join the Animagi course. She smiled wickedly; maybe she could become a viper and bite Draco Malfoy – that would teach him to pester her.

And speaking of Malfoy…

"Hello, Herm." She stalked on, ignoring him.

"Herm! Please, stop for one moment."  
  


"What?" she asked, exasperated. Draco leaned forward and kissed her. When he pulled away, SMACK!

"Ow!"

"Don't. Do That. Ever. Again." She growled, and turned away. He grabbed her arm.

"Look, I know you're attracted. You're just afraid to admit that you love a guy, cuz your father never loved you back."

"How dare you mention my father!"

"Easily." Draco drawled. "And I've obviously hit a sore spot. I'm guessing he hasn't let you know his new whereabouts." 

Riddle stepped closer to him, grabbing his tie. "Listen to me, and listen well," she hissed. "You do not speak of my father to me. Ever. Or I will make sure you suffer the same fate as your father." Draco gulped, and paled.

"Understood, ma'am."

"Good. Petrificus Totalus!" He thudded to the floor. "After all, I can't have you running after me. Don't worry; someone will discover you soon enough. Maybe it'll be Saint Potter."

--------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------

As if her encounter with Draco wasn't enough; Riddle was unfortunate enough to run across "Saint Potter" a few moments later, on her way to the lower dungeons. He was climbing the stairs wearily, looking like he'd spent the last of his energy.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he bumped into her. She shoved him back, and he barely caught himself before tumbling down the stairs. He looked up in shock, then realized who he'd run into. "Great."

"What's the matter, Potter? Not in the mood to see me? Well, I wasn't in the mood to be shoved."

"Look, Herm, I really –"

"Excuse me? Since when do you have the right to call me by a nickname?" 

"Old habit." He muttered, and tried to shove past her.

"Oh, no. I don't think so."

"Look, quit it, okay? I'm not going to fight you."

"That's right. Potter the gentleman."

"No. Believe me, I'd love to hit you. But I remember…" The boy gazed at her quietly, and Hermione Riddle suddenly felt nervous. What was Potter thinking?

"What?"

"I remember her. And I'm sure she's still there somewhere; your…" Harry tried to say 'father,' but choked on the word. "Voldemort didn't eliminate her."

"Who?" She demanded angrily. He smiled faintly.

"Hermione." And The Boy Who Lived walked away, leaving a very shocked and puzzled Slytherin behind him.

---------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------

He didn't care what Dumbledore said; he was going to go after her. Harry needed Hermione back. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------

**October 31, 1987**

Voldemort  ambled slowly around the house. No need to rush, after all. It had only taken him twenty minutes the last time. The Potters had fought well, especially the girl, but he was better. Much better. 

It was a pity, though. He was going to regret killing the girl. She really didn't have to die, but he knew she wouldn't give over the boy. No matter. He was protected now, and he would not fail.

He heard a chiming in the background. Ah, yes. That would be the Godric's Hollow town clock. He counted the tones. Ten pm. he smiled. Might as well not wait any longer. And he headed for the door.

--------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------

**Present Day**

Hermione Riddle stalked the halls early that morning. She was angry. Very angry. Rage was coursing through her, and her blood was hot. She couldn't take this anymore. Potter's behavior yesterday had unnerved. She didn't like being unnerved. She also didn't like being ignored. So she was going to attract some attention.

----------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------

Harry was down in the dungeons, again. The circle was ready, the spell book open, and his wand in his pocket. He opened his mouth.

"Wait, Harry."

He closed his mouth and gazed expectantly at Dumbledore.

"Harry, this is going to be difficult. You're going back to the night your parents died. Voldemort will be stronger. And I also know you'll want to help your parents. But, don't."

"But, sir-"

"Harry, there are no coincidences. What happened that night is what led to Voldemort's downfall. If you aid your parents, we cannot be sure of the consequences. You must not interfere until he turns to you."

"Why?" Harry asked, becoming agitated. "Why only me? They're my parents!"

"Because, Harry, if you don't save yourself, then nothing matters. Voldemort will be stronger, and he is now ale to touch you. If he succeeds in killing your year-old self…"

"Fine," Harry snapped. "Fine." He stepped into the circle. 

"Paseo Reuno a mey octho," He chanted. The door to the dungeon burst open, and he saw Riddle in the doorway. 

"Hello," she said, smiling wickedly. She raised her wand. "Can I join in on the fun?"

"Finish the spell, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. Harry breathed deeply and opened his mouth to finish the last phrase as Dumbledore walked over to Riddle.

"May I help you, miss Riddle?"

"Yeah, you can."

"Reuno du 1987…" Harry's voiced trailed off, as Riddle's gaze locked with his for a moment. He knew instantly what she meant to do.

"Professor!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" There was a slight thud as the body hit the ground. Harry gazed at the man who had been his mentor, headmaster, friend, and surrogate grandfather all rolled into one. As the scene became blurry, he raised his gaze, meeting the hate-filled eyes of the girl who used to be his friend. 

"Your turn," she smirked.

"Actim," Harry whispered hoarsely. 

Hermione Riddle was left in an empty room.


	13. Halloween

Hermione Riddle cursed. Potter was gone, and she didn't know where. But she couldn't worry over it now. She'd just have to wait for him to show again. 

"Dobby!" she called. The elf scurried into the room. He was obviously not happy about it, but he was bound by the rules of his kind. If he was called, and within reach of the summons, he had to answer. Cringing, and wringing his hands, he made his way to her. 

"What does Miss want?"

She sighed. She really didn't want Dobby, though he was a decent servant. He'd often served her at the Malfoys'. But that was before he'd been freed. _Freed!_ By accident, but still freed. And worse, he was _paid to work at Hogwarts. Paid and with days off. As if a house-elf really needed those rights! That wasn't why they existed. But he was the only one she knew by name. _

"Stay here for now. I'll tell you when I decide what you're good for." The elf hung his head, and shuffled to a corner of the room. 

 "_Exceso Sonorus!_" Riddle muttered, pointing her wand at her throat. "ALL FACULTY TO THE LOWEST DUNGEONS. IMMEDIATELY. DISOBEDIANCE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED."

Within twenty minutes, all the staff were assembled in front of her. Many wore looks of confusion. Why had a student called them? And to an empty dungeon?

"Glad you made it so quickly. Dobby, bring it over." The elf emerged from the darkest corner, pulling something behind him. Gasps were heard and tears sprang to several pairs of eyes as the body of Albus Dumbledore came into view.

"There's going to be some changes around here." Riddle said simply, as the staff gazed at the body in horror.

Dobby had retreated a few feet away. Shaking his head sadly, he whispered, "Why? What has happened to you, miss?"

Riddle heard. Whirling around, she snapped, "What do you mean, elf?!" 

"Miss used to be kind. Miss used to be friends with Harry Potter and his Wheezy." 

"His what?" What was the elf talking about? First there was that strange look from Dumbledore that day in his office, then Potter…and now a house-elf? Maybe all the so-called "good guys" were going barking mad. She'd _never_ been friends with Potter. Or his Wheezy, whatever that was.

"Never mind, miss." Dobby himself wasn't sure what was going on, only that this was not how things were supposed to be. He had a heavy sense that they never would be again.

------------------------------------------------------------ -----------------------------------------------

**Halloween, 1987**

Harry found himself in front of a rather modest brick home as a clock struck ten in the distance. Hearing a noise, he rushed to move around the corner, and then peered out.

Voldemort came into view. Which meant this house was his parents', and the Fidelius Charm was broken.

------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Voldemort smiled to himself as he knocked on the door. He always waited for an invitation before entering. Just because he was going to kill someone didn't mean he wouldn't be polite until then. 

No answer. Well, he'd tried. With a wave of his wand, the door opened. 

"LILY! IT'S HIM! TAKE HARRY AND GO!"

"Now, really, James. Do you think that was wise?"

"If it keeps Harry from you," James growled. He pulled his wand from his pocket. "_Expelliarmus!" Red light shot towards Voldemort, but he dodged. _

"_Avada Kedavra!" But James' reflexes were as quick as Voldemort's. He ducked and moved aside. "Potter, I have no time for this."_

"_Rictursempra!" _

"_Serpensortia!" _

"_Expelliarmus!" James cried again, with a quick glance toward the kitchen to see if Lily and Harry had escaped._

"_Avada Kedavra!" James fell to the floor, a mingled expression of worry and defiance still on his face. "I told you I had no time for this." Voldemort turned away from the body and headed for the kitchen._

---------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry entered the house after the second explosion of green light. It only left him seconds to save himself, but he couldn't have entered any earlier. It would have been too tempting to save his parents. 

He walked past the bodies quickly. Grief could come later, but if he allowed it now, it would kill him. Literally, since it would be a distraction.

Voldemort was in the kitchen, wand raised over a little boy, barely over the age of one year. He was so focused on baby Harry that he did not immediately register the presence of older Harry.

"_Expelliarmus!" Unfortunately, Voldemort moved aside, and Harry missed._

"Well, well. Harry. So Dumbledore figured out a solution after all." Harry glared at him, but said nothing.

"Come to rescue yourself, have you? Come to be te great hero? Tell me, Harry, what makes you think you can save yourself if you couldn't save your friends? I assume you tried."

"No." But the lie was obvious.

"Or why you didn't try to save your parents? Why not attack me earlier, Harry? You'd have had a family."

"Because it would've altered the timeline again," Harry replied quietly. "You know that. And no one can predict what that future would've been like." 

"But surely it would've been happier, Harry? Better. Except, of course, for the fact you wouldn't have your friends with you. You wouldn't have my _daughter_ with you, not as a friend, at least."

"_She's not your daughter!" All of the emotions that Harry had been suppressing rose to the surface. The pain and rage at the deaths that'd occurred, the fear, the worry, all of it. He wanted nothing more than to kill Voldemort at this moment, and as the thought entered his mind, the curse cam from his lips._

"_Avada Kedavra!" Angry green light flashed from his wand, and hit Voldemort squarely in the chest._

For a moment, nothing happened. Voldemort sneered confidently at Harry, his red eyes glowing. And then the spell took.

It was nothing spectacular. Voldemort was simply there, sneering at him, and then he wasn't. His presence was there, the body was not.

Harry picked up his squirming younger self, and carried him to the door, exhausted. But there was still one thing left to do, before he left and returned to his own time. With a flick of his wand, and a muttered incantation, the house lay in rubble before him. Dumbledore had told him to do this, to eliminate any possible evidence of his presence. 

He walked through the now barely existent structure, stepping over pieces of wood and other things, until he reached a safe spot to place baby Harry. It wouldn't have made sense to leave him at the doorway, for what baby could get through this mess on his or her own? He stood for a moment, just looking at the destruction caused tonight, then whispered the word that would return him to his own time, hoping that things had been fixed. 


	14. Countdown

**_Disclaimer:__ Not mine, which is good. _**

            He reappeared in the dungeons instantly. And with a spurt of hope, he noticed that Dumbledore's body was not in the room.

"Harry Potter, sir," came a trembling voice behind him.

"Dobby?"

"Yes, sir." The elf was his hands desperately, and tears threatened to leak from his eyes.

"Dobby, what is it?"

"It's Miss Riddle, sir. Miss has taken control of Hogwarts!"

"So I failed." Harry muttered. "I still have something to correct."

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Dobby."

"Something has happened here sir, but Dobby does not know what. Only that things aren't as they should be."

"No, no they aren't. I'm sorry. But I'll fix it. Now, listen, Dobby. I want you to leave Hogwarts."

"Sir?"

"Just do it, Dobby."

"Yes, sir." 

Harry left the dungeons then. If Riddle was in control of the school, then Dumbledore was still dead. Which meant he still had to correct something. And he knew what it was: He had to stop Voldemort from using the Turners. But first, he wanted to try to deal with riddle. He couldn't abandon hope that there was still a chance to talk to her as Hermione, before he time-traveled again. If he failed, he didn't want his last memories of her to be of Slytherin behavior.

The halls were silent and empty. Normally, no matter what the hour, there was a ghost, Mrs. Norris, or a person in sight. But not now. The only thing he saw as he walked was his shadow in te flickering candlelight.

He wandered on, going up and down staircases, thinking. He had o stop Voldemort from using the Turners, but when was that? Sometime in July or August, probably. They'd noticed Moody's disappearance about a month ago. So Voldemort had been using the Year Turner then. So he would have to go farther back.

Lucius Malfoy had died about two months ago. Maybe he _had_ been killed by Voldemort himself. Because of the Year-Turner. It made sense. Go back before the body was found, say a week. That would give time for it to have been dumped where it wouldn't be found immediately. So, he was probably aiming for…

An awful wailing interrupted his thoughts.

"You r-ruined my t-toilet!" Sobbing followed.

Harry knew what that meant. He was on the second floor, and someone was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. And he had a feeling it would be Riddle. 

He sprinted to the door and glanced inside. It was as he'd thought. Riddle was there, adding ingredients to a cauldron, ignoring the ghost that glared at her from the ceiling. He had a painful flashback to their second year, during the time of the Polyjuice potion. He pushed it away.

"Riddle."

She turned slowly to face him. "Yes?" She asked coolly. 

"I…um, I…" He couldn't do this. Memories returning with a vengeance, and he just couldn't believe that she was evil. Though her eyes held no warmth, and her expression reminded him strongly of the look Professor Snape reserved for him, she was still Hermione. Or she had been, and he hoped some part of her still was.

She walked toward him slowly, boldly staring him in the eye. She stopped only when Harry stepped back to avoid touching noses. With a smirk, she asked, "You're going to stop me?"

Harry nodded, and Riddle laughed.

"Don't be stupid, Potter. You can't even look me in the eye anymore. The only reason you've ever escaped my father is _luck_."

"Then why isn't he coming after me now?" he snapped. Hermione's referral to Voldemort as her "father" had brought him back to this reality. This Hermione wasn't his friend wand never would be.

"He's concerned with more important matters.' She turned her back to him, and picked up a vial to add its contents to the cauldron that sat on the floor, right where Myrtle's stall had been. The liquid inside reminded him strongly of the potion that had been used to restore Voldemort that past summer.

"Really, Riddle?" Harry asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "From the way he's gone after me the asst four years, I assumed I was your _father's_ number one priority. That I was all he cared about."

She whirled around, wand in hand. "Shut up, Potter!"

"I mean, he attacked me in my first year, and then-"

"Crucio!"

Harry flinched, expecting to feel as if he was on fire. But the pain didn't come, though an awful screaming filled his ears. He turned, afraid to discover who Riddle's innocent victim was.

Neville Longbottom was squirming on the floor, his face contorted in agony. When had he entered the room? Harry felt sick as he faced Riddle again.

"Stop."

"Why?"

"He isn't involved in this"

"Yes, but it's so fun."

"STOP!" He pulled out his wand.

Riddle sighed, and jerked her wand so that the curse was broken. 

"Neville, get out." The other boy needed no encouragement. He stumbled out as quickly as possible.

Riddle smirked. "What a baby. His parents didn't scream until the end."

"How would you know? We were babies!"

"My father required it of his Death Eaters to place any memories of their assignments or activities in a Pensieve. Bellatrix Lestrange sent one to me before she was arrested. Very entertaining."

Harry paled. "That's sick," he choked out.

"Perhaps. Are you going to attempt to stop me or not? Because I have work to do." In response, he raised his wand. She sighed. 'Very well." She pointed her wand at his chest.

He knew she meant to kill him. He aimed his own wand at her heart, hoping that she would stop, if the same threat was aimed at her.

"Potter, do you really think you can kill me?"

In his heart, Harry was almost certain he couldn't. But he nodded.

"Then let's find out who's still standing after a count of three."

Harry swallowed.

"One."

His palm was growing sweaty, and his wand was slipping in his grasp. But he didn't dare wipe his hand. He tightened his grip s muc as he could

"Two."

He couldn't be doing this. There had to be another way. He couldn't die, and he couldn't kill her. And if he…if he did kill her, or if he died, what would happen?

He looked Riddle in the eyes, silently begging the Hermione he knew to emerge. But there was no sudden spark of warmth, only icy wrath and determination. Riddle fully intended to kill him.

"Three."


	15. Avada Kedavra

**_Disclaimer:_ _Aren't you glad I don't own them?_**

"Avada Kedavra." Harry whispered, closing his eyes. He expected to feel the impact of Riddle's spell connecting with his body. But he didn't.

A flash of brilliant green light wrenched his eyes open, as a roar entered is ears. Whether it was from the spell or his furiously beating heart, he couldn't tell. A thud followed.

He looked at the girl on the floor. Her eyes had closed with the impact, and there was no sign of malice on her face. It was Hermione, lying there. Not Riddle, who had tormented him daily, murdered Dumbledore, and threatened his life. Just Hermione. Her soft brown hair was splayed over the floor, and her wand, which must've fallen from her hand when she fell, had rolled a few inches away.

Harry knelt and gently picked it up. This was not the wand Hermione Granger had carried. This had the feel of Riddle through and through. The dark ebony gleamed, and felt cool and heavy in his hand. He stood slowly, pocketing it.

"You shouldn't do that."

Myrtle hovered in front of him. He'd forgotten that she was there.

"Not nice to steal from the dead, you know."

Harry just walked through her.


	16. The Soul's Midnight

It was dark, near midnight. Harry sat in Dumbledore's office. There was no light; he didn't feel he deserved to see it. The warmth and cheer light brought didn't suit his mood right now.

He focused his mind on the task at hand as best he could. But images of the dead floated before his eyes, and he couldn't block them out as he prepared a new spell circle. He paused after ten minutes. He was getting nowhere. The spell circle was more like an oval. So he closed his eyes, and breathed slowly, trying to empty his mind.

The second it was clear, he went to work creating a new circle, making certain no other thoughts entered his head. To stop Voldemort and return to the life he knew, he couldn't think of the dead girl in Myrtle's bathroom. Or the cool wand in his pocket. 

The spell book sat in front of him, waiting. When the circle was complete, he lit one candle. The writing shifted in the dim, flickering light. Harry blinked, and trued to focus. He considered lighting more candles, but still felt he deserved no light. He blew ot the candle and lay down, deciding to wait until morning.

------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------

His eyes snapped open the next morning. What had woken him? And then he saw her.

She was just as alive, just as cheerful and vibrant as she'd been before this whole mess. Ron was standing beside her, with the other fallen Weasleys behind him. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore stood off to the side, talking quietly with Moody.

"C'mon mate. Get up!"

"Ron?"

"Who else would I be? Blimey, you must really be tired. First you fall asleep where you're sitting, then you act like I'm not supposed to be here."

"This…this isn't real."

"Of course it is," Hermione said. "Do you think I can't tell what's real and what isn't? '

"But I killed you."

 "No you didn't. I'm right here. That must've been some nightmare."

"No." Harry said firmly. "This is the nightmare."

"Look, mate, I know these meetings are boring, but-"

"NO!" Ron and Hermione shut up, as did Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Moody. "Look. As much as I like this, this isn't real. You're…you're all…you're all dead. This is a dream." He noticed dream Dumbledore smiling sadly and nodding out of the corner of his eye. Even in dreams, Dumbledore always knew everything that went on. "And, Hermione…" his voice cracked as she cocked her head. "I killed you. I'm sorry. I had to make a choice. Forgive me."

"Harry, we aren't dead." Mrs. Weasley said quietly.

"Yes you are! Buy I'm going to try to fix it, so please, go away!"

"Harry," Hermione said softly. Her voice, filled with concern, still lingered in his ears as he opened his eyes.

Three am. The soul's midnight, he'd read somewhere. The time when people, if they are awake, are haunted by inner demons. And his were certainly haunting tonight.

Feeling as if angry eyes were upon him, Harry relit the candle, as well as a few others. He had a guess of what time he wanted to visit, and he may as well act now. He knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep.

He took a deep breath, gently fingering the cold black wand in his pocket. He didn't know why he'd taken it, other than some inner sense had told him it might be useful.

"Lothlynen, Inspame, paseo reuno." The spell was slightly different this time, allowing for a day's time in the past. 

And the office stood empty, save for invisible watchers of the night. 

----------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**July 2002 **

Harry appeared at the side of the Riddle house. The darkness hid him from view, inside or out. He looked for a window, and found  one a few feet away.

He peered in. Good. There were no Death Eaters standing guard; he could enter easily.

Harry raced around the house and entered. He halted, gaping at the dilapidated grandeur of the front hall. The ornate furniture was reminiscent of the eighteen century or earlier. A thick carpet muffled his footsteps as he moved toward the staircase.

A slight slithering noise caught his attention. Harry held his breath as he turned slowly around. He found himself staring into the wide yellow eyes of a snake. No wonder there'd been no Death Eaters. A name from his nightmares came to his lips, as the snake dropped back down to the floor and pierced his ankle.

"Nagini."

Harry felt a brief stab of pain as the fangs struck him again, and fell back onto the stairs. Footsteps sounded, and red eyes glittered above him.

"Harry Potter."

Harry blacked out.


	17. Snape and Voldemort

He came to in an empty room. The venom apparently didn't kill, or it needed to be given in larger doses. He supposed he should count himself lucky.

Harry stood and walked shakily to the door, and jiggled the handle. Locked. He searched his robes. Not surprisingly, the two wands were no longer in his pockets. There were no windows, so he was stuck until someone let him out.

Harry sat down. There was nothing he could do; without furniture, he couldn't hope to break the door down. His body alone did not weigh enough to create such force.

He thought briefly about how to escape once the door was open, but couldn't focus. Once again, when he wanted to concentrate, images from the previous night came to haunt him.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring into space and wondering about it. Could he have run from her instead? Or would he have died? He felt like retching when he realized there was no alternative. One girl could not matter when he faced he prospect of restoring several lives.

The door creaked open a crack. Harry stood at the sound, his muscles protesting at the sudden use. He didn't care though; he was going to get out.

He rushed at the doorway, violently ramming into the Death Eater standing there. But instead of falling over or stumbling, the Death Eater stood still, and grabbed Harry's shoulders.

"Escape without a plan is not wise, Potter."

Harry knew that voice. He glanced up sharply, straight into the glittering black eyes of his potions master.

"S-S-Snape." Harry stuttered.

"Close your mouth, Potter. You sound like a snake." The man pushed Harry into the room, and closed the door after he himself entered. "We have five minutes. Explain why you're here."

"My business is not yours." Snape scowled at Harry's response.

"Your business is mine, Mr. Potter, seeing as your actions have placed you in a highly dangerous situation. Why are you here?"

"Nagini bit me." Harry didn't really feel like going into the whole situation with Snape, so he avoided it.

"I know that, boy! That what got you caught!" Footsteps echoed outside of the room, and the doorknob turned. "Never mind." The door opened, and another Death Eater entered. The mingled fury and worry that had been on Snape's face smoothed into nothingness. "What is it?" he growled.

"Dark Lord wants the boy, Snape. Says your interrogation is cancelled."

"Very well. Follow me, Potter."

Harry did as he was told. He was getting out of the room and to Voldemort after all. 'Good.' he thought. He followed Snape through rooms, until they reached a familiar hallway. Harry knew what lay at the other end. But Snape unexpectedly pulled him into a corner.

"Listen, Potter. Try to delay him. I'll send for help, and hopefully Dumbledore will be able to rescue you again.'

"No."

"Are you mad, Potter? Dashing off to act the hero is not-"

"You don't know everything." Harry said, cutting him off. "I'm going alone. And if I die in there, I hope I prevent what's coming before I do." He left the startled man behind, and moved toward the door that led to Voldemort.

------------------------------------------ -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Harry Potter." Hissed a low voice as he entered. It came from a dark figure in the corner, turning something silver in its hands. A fire flickered in a fireplace on the opposite wall.

"Voldemort." Harry said simply, as he moved further into the room.

"Tell me, Potter…how did you come by my mother's wand?" Voldemort withdrew a familiar ebony wand from his robes. Riddle's wand.

"I took it from your daughter."

"I have no daughter."

"Not in this timeline, no." Voldemort's eyes widened. "Yeah, I know about your little toy." Harry said coldly. He glared into the red that had appeared so frequently in his dreams. His enemy said nothing, only handed him Riddle's wand. "I don't want a repeat of last time. May I presume you remember the rules of dueling?"

"Yes, but you aren't worth bowing to." Harry aimed the wand at the silver object still in Voldemort's hand. "_Implos!_" The object shattered. It was then Harry noticed that a small wooden box lay on a nearby table. To be safe, he aimed at it.

Before he could utter anything, a dreamy feeling came over him. '_Move away. Move away._' Harry threw it off easily, and laughed. "Won't work. _Implos!_" The box shattered, as did it's contents. Glittering sand flew through the air.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Harry dodged, and the room dissolved around him.

**A/N: Just a reminder - there are two endings to this fic, the original and an alternate one written later. Hope you enjoy at least one of them, if not both.**


	18. Original ending: Bonded

**Original Ending**

Harry blinked. '_I'm dreaming again.' He glanced around, and his gaze fell on the table in front of him. The spell book was gone. He'd succeeded, it seemed. But he still couldn't be sure. Maybe the book was moved._

He left the office quietly. Living in the altered Hogwarts had made him paranoid. 

Harry received a shock as he stepped into the hall. Rather than the silence he'd become accustomed to, students were rushing around quite loudly. They stood in corners, gossiping and laughing. He grinned. And then he ran to Myrtle's bathroom.

The lack of Hermione's body on the floor reassured him. He had fixed everything. It was as it should be.

"Hello, Harry." The soft voice made him spin around. 

"Dumbledore." The elderly man nodded, and motioned for Harry to follow him. They walked back to the office. When they were inside, and Harry seated, Dumbledore began to speak.

"I gather that you are feeling most relieved at the moment, am I correct?"

"Yes," Harry said slowly. This couldn't be good.

" And on one hand, you should be. You restored time, the Weasleys are all alive, as are anyone else who was murdered after the Turners' use, and Voldemort will not look to the past as an option any longer. You will also look forward to dreadful predictions regarding your fate in Divination."

"But…"

"Harry, did anything happen between you and…Miss Riddle, after she killed me?"

"You remember that?" Harry asked.

"Surprisingly, yes. Due to a rather interesting side effect of an experiment in my youth, I have full memory of everything from the altered timeline. Which, of course, does not usually occur, except for the one who repairs it."

Harry felt that Dumbledore wasn't telling him something, but he decided not to question it. "Yes, something happened."

"What, Harry?" 

"We dueled. And…"

"You were forced to kill her. A most painful and difficult decision, no doubt."

Harry nodded.

"Then it is as I feared."

Harry didn't ask what Dumbledore feared. A sick feeling grew in his stomach, as he realized that he already knew the answer.

"Because it was you who killed her in that alternate timeline, she is dead in this. Actually, she does not exist. I know the why won't matter to you, but-" that was as far as Dumbledore got. Harry leapt from the seating, shouting through his tears that he'd had no choice. How she had been so stupid; why had he had to choose? He hadn't wanted to.

Dumbledore sat there quietly, until Harry had finished. When he sat again, Fawkes fluttered down. He pushed the bird away. "You can't help this time." He looked Dumbledore in the eyes.

"I can't fix it, can I?" he asked the headmaster quietly.

"No, Harry. You can't."

"You said she doesn't exist."

"You and I are the only ones with any memories of her, Harry." Dumbledore withdrew something from his pocket. Two somethings. "Here." 

Harry took the wands from him slowly. Both were so familiar now, holly and ebony. Warm and cool. Light and heavy. He went on contrasting the wands in his mind, for he needed to focus on something.

"Did Professor Snape get these?"

"Yes. It was not safe for him bring them to me until now, however."

 Harry thought of something. "Why was I returned to this day, sir? Voldemort used the Turners before school started."

"The spell always returns the user to the same week, the same day, preferably, that the spell was cast."

"Oh." Harry turned to leave.

"Would you like me to send for Sirius?"

"What for? Hermione won't have existed for him." And in a strange way, Harry was grateful for that. No one would need to know what he had done to return their lives to normal. 

But it wasn't fair to Hermione. Two people would remember her. Tow people only. And when they died, she would vanish entirely. All she had left behind was a wand. A wand that wasn't truly hers; it had belonged to the girl corrupted by Voldemort. Not the smartest witch Hogwarts ad ever seen. Not his best friend, the bushy-haired girl who had saved his life, argued with Ron, and defended elf rights. But he clutched it tightly anyway. It was all he had of her, save for memories he couldn't share.

"Hey mate!" A familiar redhead made his way through the crowds as Harry emerged from the spiral staircase that led to the office. 'Been waiting for you. What did Dumbledore want?" 

Harry said nothing. Ron tried again to make conversation, but Harry's expression made it clear he didn't want talk.

That night, Harry sat staring at the lake. He was exhausted, but he didn't want to sleep. Not yet. He was afraid of what he would dream. Guilt tore at him, and again he reminded himself there had been no alternative. If he had died, nothing would have been fixed. And running wasn't possible in that situation.

Days passed, and his friendships with Ron and other collapsed. He felt no urge to fly or play Quidditch, preferring instead to study in the library. It became his second home. Occasionally, he visited Hedwig, but he did not send letters.

Three months after the death of Hermione, Harry found what he was looking for. He ripped the page from the book, and ran to get supplies. This would be easy. And it would ensure that some portion of Hermione would remain in this world, even after he and Dumbledore were gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------

Harry sat in front of the cauldron, carefully measuring ingredients. Dragon's blood, beetle eyes, and moth wings. Wood ash and lake water. 

Within the hour, his potion was bubbling. All it needed was the wands, and a spell. He lowered the wands in gently, shivering as his fingers released each one into the mix. He silently prayed this wood work.

"Dos peaa unico, bondinus."

He slept beside the cauldron that night. The whole operation required twenty-four hours to be successful, and he would guard it till then.

When the allotted time was up, Harry reached into his cauldron. The brew had melted away, leaving only a wand inside. Just one. Things had gone as planned.

Harry pulled out his new wand, and stared at it. The phoenix feather was still inside; he could tell by the warmth. But  now it was encased in gleaming ebony.

Hermione would've been proud. Despite his claims to be no good at heavy research or difficult spells, he'd done both. And now some part of her would remain, for he doubted that any wand owned by The Boy Who Lived would ever be destroyed if it could be prevented.

He pocketed the wand as he headed back to the castle.

====================================== =========================

A/N: Okay, that was the original ending. I tried to make it a little clearer than the way it'd first been written. After all, just because I understood what was going on and why didn't mean everyone else would. So I added a couple details to clarify. The alternate, more cheerful ending will be posted soon.


	19. Alternate Ending: Relief

**Alternate Ending**

"Good morning, Harry." 

Harry blinked. Where was he? He looked around, and his gaze met a pair of twinkling blue eyes. "Wha-" he started to ask.

"Dobby the house-elf reported that you were having nightmares. I decided to check up on things."

It was then that Harry noticed he was sitting on his bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. The other beds were empty, and looked as if they hadn't been slept in.

"I'm…fine. Fine."

"Are you sure, Harry?"

He glanced around once more at the dormitory, and nodded. "I'm sure."

When Dumbledore had gone, Harry stuck his hand into his pocket. One wand. He hoped that meant what he thought it did.

---------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------

Harry had never felt more relieved than he did the first day of school that year. Seeing Hermione walking into the Entrance Hall washed away the last of his fears. Voldemort was defeated for now, and both of his friends were alive. What could be better?

"Harry, have you…er…been drinking too much butterbeer?" Hermione asked him, when she and Ron walked over to where he was standing. 

"Huh?"

"You've got an ear-to-ear grin, mate. I know we're your best friends and all, but you can't have missed us that much. You were here at Hogwarts all summer! Bet you got in loads of exploring."

"I'm sure he did, Ron, but I'm also sure that he used it as an opportunity to learn more as well, right Harry?"

"Hermione! Is that all you think about? More learning?!"

Ron and Hermione turned to look at him. "Well, Harry?" they chorused.

"Both right."

Ron groaned. "Mione, what are you done to him?"

"Just because Harry's finally taking an interest in his studies…."

Harry smiled as he listened to them bickering. To think that he'd come so close to never seeing these type of scenes again….

"Harry?" He looked up into Hermione's questioning eyes. Without warning, her dead body flashed before his eyes, and he winced. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lied. "Nothing." But he knew that what he'd had to do would definitely continue to bother him. And what would they say if they knew? 

=============================== =====================================

Slightly happier, right? The Year and Month Turners were destroyed, so they were never used, and everything goes back to normal. And everyone's alive in this shorter, sort of happier version. Yay!


End file.
